NEW BRUNSWICK. 117 



the sombre lines of spruce and hemlock and juniper, as 

 they ran into the deep shade or emerged into the open 

 moonlight till they came in sight of the Nashwaak, 

 seaming the dark earth like a vein of silver, when a glo- 

 rious view presented itself to their attention. Far away 

 as the eye could reach, stretched the valley of Nashwaak, 

 silent as the repose of death ; not a sound but the rat- 

 tle of the wheels broke the still air, while the moon 

 bathed the rocks, the earth, the trees, with its uncertain 

 light, formed weird shapes out of the foliage, or cast 

 strange shadows across the road. Still on, however, 

 scarcely pausing — as every true sportsman must pause 

 before the beauties of nature — the party were soon, lost 

 in the shady descent that led toward the bank of the 

 stream, whose course they followed some miles, crossing 

 it beyond, over a high', substantial bridge. The road 

 then branched off, traversing the unbroken wilderness, 

 where for miles not a habitation was visible, till mid- 

 night found them amid a heavy shower at McCloud's, the 

 half-way house from Fredericton to Boiestown. 



The horses under the shed, a sound thumping on 

 the door brought out the host, who attended to the wants 

 of man and beast, and sent them on their way rejoicing, 

 as soon as the storm had abated. There was little vari- 

 ety in the scene ; the road was mostly level and good, 

 the forest was of the same dull character, with many 

 dead trunks towering up amid it ; there were few houses 

 and no settlements, and the country was principally ol'o 

 vast plain. As the morning light began to streak the 

 east with grey, they came in sight of the peaceful Mira- 

 michi, and turning off from the main road across the 



